Michelle Smart - The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty

‘I said, she’s beautiful, isn’t she?’ Aunt Carlotta’s voice had taken a distinctly frosty tone. Somehow, in between her non-stop nattering, she had managed to acquire Lily without him noticing. She held the baby aloft for his perusal.

He peered down at the chubby face with the black eyes staring up at him, and all he could think was how like a little dark-haired piglet she looked. ‘Yes, beautiful,’ he lied, forcing a wide smile.

Seriously, how could anyone think babies were beautiful? Cute at a push maybe, but beautiful? Why anyone raved about them was beyond him. They were the most boring of creatures. He quite liked toddlers though. Especially when they were getting up to mischief.

He was saved from having to fake any more enthusiasm by a great-aunt barging him out of the way so she too could coo at the poor child.

Using this momentary lapse of Aunt Carlotta’s attention, he sidled away.

Was this the way people acted at all christenings? From the way his relatives were behaving, anyone would think Lily had been conceived from a virgin birth. Having not attended a christening in nearly fifteen years, he wouldn’t know. Given a chance, he would have got out of this one too. But there’d been no way, not when he’d been made godfather. Luca, his brother, would have strung him up if he’d tried to avoid it.

He wondered how long it would take for Luca and Grace to try again. No doubt they would keep trying until a boy was born. His own parents had struck gold from the outset, the need for an heir immediately satisfied with Luca’s birth. Pepe’s own conception was more along the ‘spare’ lines and to give Luca a playmate.

Was he being unfair to his parents? He didn’t know or care. He’d been feeling out of sorts all day, and having the red-headed geisha glaring at him as if he were the Antichrist was not helping his mood.

Forget it, he thought, reaching for another glass of red from a passing maid. No one would notice if he left earlier than was deemed polite...

‘You look stressed, Pepe.’

He muttered an expletive under his breath.

He should have known he wouldn’t be able to escape without her collaring him. There had been something too determined in that expression of hers.

Plastering another fake smile on his face, he turned around and faced her. ‘Cara!’ he exclaimed with bonhomie so fake even Lily would see through it. Grabbing her shoulder with his free hand, he pulled her into him and leaned down to kiss both her cheeks. She was so short he almost had to double over. ‘How are you? Enjoying the party?’

Her dark coppery eyebrows knotted together into a glare. ‘Oh, yes. I’m having a marvellous time.’

Pretending not to notice the definite edge to her voice, he nodded and raised the wattage of his grin. ‘Fabulous. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have—’

‘Running away again, are you?’ Her Irish lilt had thickened since he’d last seen her. When they’d first met, here in Sicily three years ago, her voice had contained only the lightest of traces; by all accounts she’d left Ireland for England when she was a teenager. When he’d seduced her in Dublin four months ago, he’d noticed her accent had become more pronounced. Now there was no doubting her heritage.

‘I have to be somewhere.’

‘Really?’ If an inflection could cut glass, that one word would have done the trick. She nodded her head in his sister-in-law’s direction. ‘She’s the reason you stole my phone, isn’t she?’ It wasn’t a question.

He drew in a breath before meeting Cara’s stony glare. The last time he’d been with her, those eyes had been brimful of desire. ‘Yes. She’s the reason.’

Cara’s geisha lips always drew a second glance—her bottom lip was beautifully plump, as if it had been stung by a bee. Now she drew it tightly under her teeth and bit into it. When she released it, the lip was a darker, even more kissable red. Her eyes had become a laser death stare.

‘And was it my phone that led Luca to find her?’

There was no point in lying. She already knew the answers. Lying would demean them both. ‘Sì.’

‘You came all the way to Dublin, to the auction house where I work, spent two million euros on a painting, and all to get hold of my phone?’

‘Sì.’

She shook her head, her long copper locks whipping over her shoulders. ‘I take it the whole “I’ve always wanted to visit Dublin, please show me around” thing was also deliberate?’

‘Yes.’ He held her icy gaze and allowed the tiniest of softening into his tone. ‘I really did have a great weekend—you’re an excellent tour guide.’

‘And you’re an unmitigated...’ She buried the curse beneath a deep breath. ‘But that’s by the by. You seduced me for one reason and one reason only—so you could steal my phone the minute I fell asleep.’

‘That was the main reason,’ he agreed, experiencing the strangest tightening in his chest. ‘But I can assure you, I enjoyed every minute. And I know you enjoyed it too.’

Cara had come undone in his arms. It had been an experience that still lingered in his memories and his senses, but an experience he ruthlessly dispatched from his head now.

All he wanted was to get away from her, get away from this claustrophobic party with all the talk of babies and marriage, and find himself a few hours of oblivion.

Her cheeks coloured but her jaw hardened. ‘What’s enjoyment got to do with anything? You lied to me. You spent a whole weekend lying to me, pretending to enjoy my company...’

He flashed his most winning smile. ‘I did enjoy your company.’ He certainly wasn’t enjoying it now though. This conversation was worse than the frequent visits to the headmaster he’d endured as a schoolboy. Just because he deserved someone’s censure didn’t mean he had to enjoy it.

‘Do I look like I was born yesterday?’ she shot back. ‘The only reason you hooked up with me was because your brother was so desperate to find Grace.’

‘My brother deserved to know where his wife had gone.’

‘No, he did not. She’s not his possession.’

‘A lesson I can assure you he has learned. Look at them.’ He nodded over to where Luca had joined his wife, his arms locked around her waist. Fools, the pair of them. ‘They’re happy to be back together. Everything has worked out for the best.’

‘I was a virgin.’

He winced. He’d been trying his best to forget that little nugget. ‘If it’s an apology you’re after then I apologise, but, as I explained at the time, I didn’t know.’

‘I told you...’

‘You told me you’d never had a serious boyfriend before.’

‘Exactly!’

‘And as I told you before, not having a serious boyfriend does not equate to being a virgin.’

‘It does—did—for me.’

‘How was I supposed to know that? You’re a twenty-six-year-old woman.’ He’d thought virgins of that age were extinct, a thought he kept to himself. Cara’s skin had gone as red as her hair. He didn’t particularly fancy being on the receiving end of a punch in the face in front of his entire family, even if she would need a stepladder to reach him. There was something of a ferocious Jack Russell about her at that moment.

‘You used me,’ she said, almost snarling. ‘You let me believe you were serious, and that we would see each other again.’

‘When? Tell me, when did I say we would see each other again?’

‘You said you wanted me to come to your new house in Paris so I could advise you where to place the Canaletto painting you bought in the auction.’

He shrugged. ‘That was business talk. You know about art and I needed an expert’s eye.’ He still needed one; he’d bought his Parisian home to showcase his art collection, but the entire lot was still in storage.